The Letter M
by quitesirius
Summary: After Alice leaves Underland, Hatter continues to consider the letter "M".
1. One: Morning

**The Letter "M"**

**A/N: This is my first foray into the world of Alice, so please forgive any ill steps I take. Just give me a gentle nudge in the right direction ;) I simply ADORE Hatter, and every time I watch the movie , I feel simply awful for him when he watches Alice leave. I'm a big Hatter/Alice supporter, and I can't believe Tim cut that out of the movie. Guess I'll have to do something about that ;) Reviews make me write.  
**

**As usual, all I own is my cat and my socks.**

_One: "Morning"_

Tarrant had never been one for waiting. Or, at least he thought he'd never been one for waiting. Had he ever waited? He couldn't remember… where had it all began? Had there ever been an occasion to wait?

He… when… tick… tick… silence.

So long between the ticks.

"…_and all because I was obliged to kill time waiting for your return…"_

He stared down into his teacup, watching the swirls of steam rise up and glide over his skin. He liked tea. He liked the jovial colors of the cups, the clink of the china and the tinkle of it breaking whenever Hare winged one his way. Tarrant liked the thought of tea, but it had been some time since he'd actually drank any.

Alice liked tea.

He'd waited for Alice.

He would wait for Alice.

With a sigh, he looked toward the horizon. The ticks of his watch told him that this time he had made it a full fifteen seconds without thinking of Alice, and that was all he thought he'd get out of today. The sun was gold like her hair, and that was enough to keep him thinking of her all day.

"_I have things to do."_

She had said that. He had suggested she stay and she had declined. Wasn't that enough? Shouldn't that have shut the door? She had said she would return, but he wondered if he could wait so long again. Not that it had seemed long, for Time had stopped, but this time he could hear his watch ticking away. Time would not wait for Alice.

But he would.


	2. Two: Mutual

A/N: Well. This one has ran away with me. I've got three more waiting to be put up, haha. Better slow myself down a bit. Please let me know how I'm doing with Tarrant/Hatter- I've never written from a "mad" perspective before!

_**Two: Mutual **_

"_I'm frightened, Alice. I don't like it in here. It's terribly crowded."_

He rather disliked being alone.

That was when he was least alone, after all.

That was when Tarrant and Hatter would fight.

He had come to the realization long ago, though he kept it as private as he could for a madman. With the murder of his family had come the birth of something dark in him, lurking just beneath the surface of sweet, mild Tarrant Hightopp. Inside of Tarrant laid Hatter, so full of unbridled rage at the loss of his entire world that he nearly completely transformed Tarrant into an orange-eyed, Outlandish lunatic for good… until someone pulled him back.

He liked to pretend that the Underlanders called him "Hatter" because that was his profession, not the lack of Tarrant.

The mutual ownership of one body by two minds was enough to make anyone mad. He just rather wished that Hatter would play nicer with his things and Tarrant would defend himself a bit more. It would really cut back on buying new fabrics and the cost of bandaging his fingers.

_She's not coming back,_ Hatter would whisper in an Outlandish brogue, just on the edges of this thing called the mind, just enough to be obnoxious, like some mosquito that wouldn't go away.

_She promised, _Tarrant would whisper back in his gentle innocence.

The names Hatter threw at Tarrant in Outlandish were quite obscene and hurtful, and Tarrant rather disliked someone calling his mother such things, even if it was himself. The two would take to squabbling, louder and louder until all this body could do was pull on the roots of its orange hair and scream for them both to STOP. Soon, amid the din, all the body could think to do was to make more noise than the voices to shut them both up.

Yet, Hatter and Tarrant never really stopped, even when Mally, Mirana or Thackery pulled Tarrant out of the fight and back into himself. The two quarreling halves only ever silenced, both of them, when Alice was there.

The body sometimes threw its hands to its face, hoping to mimic the feeling it had gotten when Alice had calmed it in the Red Queen's chambers by clamping her hands on either side of its face and then put the back of her palm to its forehead. "Hatter! All the best people!" It yelled in a voice quite unlike Alice's, a desperate attempt to bring back reality.

It never worked.


	3. Three: Mystery

A/N: Oo, I rather like playing with Tarrant. Thank you for the lovely reviews! ;)

**Three: Mystery**

"_I have questions to answer… things I have to do."_

The words spun through his head so quickly he could barely grasp them. It was much like sitting beside a spindle and trying to catch the new string between the spokes… one wrong move and there was a possibility he could lose a finger. The thought of Alice's words pained him even now, some two months later, and he wondered if things would have gone differently if he'd pleaded with her just a bit more... or if he'd grabbed hold of her arm before she'd vanished. Would he have gone with her? Or lost a finger? The thoughts continued to swirl, and he thought over her words, and got just a tiny bit upset when he thought of why she had chosen to leave.

But he had understood, in some minuscule way, that there are things that need doing and questions that need answering. Had he not made it his task in life to find the answer to the riddle he had posed to Alice at least four times since she turned up at the tea party? He needed to know the answer, and he would spend the rest of his life looking for the pesky little thing if he had to.

Yet… he stared up toward the sky, a beautiful pale blue dotted with marshmallow clouds after the White Queen's return… and… he wondered what Alice was doing up there, in Upperland. Was she over his head now? He immediately turned his eyes back toward the small flower his was twirling between his fingers, hoping he hadn't embarrassed Alice by possibly looking up her… oh, it was an accident… Still. He felt his cheeks blossom with warmth.

He twirled the bloom between his fingers, watching the petals blur together. His mind went back to her, to that girl in shining armor, and he wondered what it was she had to do. What were her questions? How could she do it alone? Was she safe?

_Surely she's safe. She** is** from Upperland, and she **did** slay the Jabberwocky. I'd wager she'll be fine walking down a bloody street,_ Hatter muttered from somewhere in the back of his thoughts.

Tarrant reached up and smacked the side of his head quickly and gently in order to shush his other half. After an agitated sigh, Hatter vanished into silence again, leaving Tarrant to his questions. Tarrant began to twirl the flower a bit faster, until it twirled so fast that it spun out of his hand and into the air, floating away into the afternoon outside of the White Queen's castle.

The Queen had insisted that Tarrant come stay at the castle now and then, for a Queen always needed a hatter. He suspected she was simply checking on him, to make sure he hadn't completely lost his head, but he appreciated it all the same. Without Alice, Mirana was the most soothing presence he could think of.

"Tarrant," came the Queen's gentle voice from just behind him.

"Oh!" He turned quite quickly and smiled at the snowy woman standing in the meadow. "Yes, your Majesty?"

"Would you care for tea?"

"Ah, I was about to enjoy a cup," he replied, taking his hat off, reaching into it, and supplying a steaming cup for himself and the Queen.

"Thank you ever so much," she said, bowing graciously and having a seat beside him. "You have been out here all day, Tarrant. Are you having troubles?"

He cast a green gaze at her and shook his head slightly. "No, Queen. I was simply—"

_Pining for an impossibility, _Hatter sing-songed.

Tarrant twitched a bit and continued on. The Queen either gave no notice or ignored it. "… Simply considering the mysteries of Upperland."

The White Queen smiled warmly at Tarrant. "Ah, the Upperland. I have a great many questions about it myself. I should rather like to ask Alice all about it when she returns." She raised the cup to her lips and sipped gently.

Tarrant felt an explosion of warmth spread through his chest. "You think she will return?"

The Queen lowered her cup and looked toward her companion with soft brown eyes. "I do, Tarrant. I think that once she has saved her own world, she will return to Underland. Until then," she said gently, trying to harness in the growing excitement she could see in Tarrant, "we must ponder the mystery of the world above and prepare our questions for Alice."

Tarrant fell back into the grass, his tea cup forgotten at his side, his hat tumbling off as soon as he landed. He closed his eyes (one must keep from embarrassing young women in Upperland) and breathed in the sweet scents of the grassy afternoon, dreaming of a girl in a blue dress, and the day she would come tumbling down the rabbit hole again. He already had all of his questions prepared, and he very much doubted that the first ones he would ask her would be about Upperland.


	4. Four: Mistake

**Four: Mistake**

"_You could stay…"_

Hatter was not here this time.

Tarrant stood on the balcony he had once shared with Alice, staring off into the night. Which twinkling star was Alice? He imagined that the sky had to be the bottom of her world, and what was a floor without holes? And surely no light as bright as Alice's would be stifled by the sky… perhaps she was that one, just off to the right and shining with a bright, bluish tint… like her dress, almost.

He took in a deep breath and sighed, looking down toward his fingers, clinging to the white marble of Marmoreal. His hat sat beside him, and he reached out to run a finger along its brim, where Alice had once sat. He closed his eyes, breathing in the memory of the little thing in the blue dress he had made, dangling from his hat and speaking to him as they walked through the Tulgey Wood. He rather hoped she would still be there when he opened them, but she was not.

He cast his eyes out over the garden, looking at the white flowers glowing in the starlight. In a garden something like that one, Alice had saved his hat, and stood determined to rescue him.

He felt his fingers clenching hard against the marble and he closed his eyes again. If he was not careful, he would stir Hatter, and his delicately balanced mind would be thrown off kilter by the madman within. It was near impossible to calm his own nerves, but he was trying ever so hard, for when Hatter took off with this body, there was no telling when Tarrant could come back.

But the anger at himself for letting her go was insufferable. How could he have been so stupid? It had been the right thing, of course, to let her make her own decisions. She had promised to come back, after all. She knew that Underland… Wonderland… was where she really belonged, right here, standing on this balcony beside him instead of twinkling up in the sky. He had let her go home, to the family he had once had, hoping only that someday she would remember him.

What if she didn't remember him?

His silly mistake.

He glanced up at the stars again. His mistake had not been letting her go.

His mistake had been not following when he had the chance.

_"Take me with you_," he should have said. "_There's nothing for me here once you leave."_

That would have been honesty. Now all he had was Time, and Waiting, and if he had not been mad already, he knew he was well on his way to being there. _  
_


	5. Five: Misplaced

**Five: Misplaced**

_Where is it?_

He couldn't even quite fathom what it was he was looking for, but he knew it was here somewhere. Once he saw it, he would know, and all would be right in the world again. He ran through his thoughts, trying to remember as he searched, pushing through fabrics and scissors and pins and hats and… _what was he trying to find?_

Was this Hatter's work, whispering away in the back of his mind and toying with him? Was this some scavenger hunt with no final goal to keep Hatter entertained, now that all the dangers of Underland were gone? Was Hatter passing the time away by tormenting Tarrant?

Tarrant could feel his frustration rising up in his chest, tightening its long spiky fingers around his heart and squeezing until it bled. He could sense the growing changes in his skin, feel his eyes beginning to burn orange… He tried to breathe, to stop himself before he got carried away, but this was so aggravating! He pushed a mannequin over, hoping the movement would quell his growing rage, but it did nothing. The fingers were clutching hard at his insides, pulling and tugging and-

If he could just find what he was looking for, this would stop, those fingers would break away, Hatter would stop mumbling about Lost Things and he could get back to work and maybe he could stop thinking all of these thoughts at once because it was so jumbled and confusing and why wouldn't Hatter just _shut up_—

"Hatter!"

Tarrant inhaled sharply and he could feel his anger instantly abate. He whirled on the spot, eyes wide as he caught sight of Mally. "Thank you," he wheezed. "I'm fine."

"What are you looking for?" Mally sounded a bit frightened, which made Tarrant's stomach churn in an uncomfortable way.

"I—I'm not sure," Tarrant replied, pushing his brows together. "I… I think it's somewhere in this room, but I am not certain—"

"Come down for tea, Hatter, and we'll look later," Mally offered softly, pulling at his shoestrings.

"Yes, yes of course. Tea." He shook his head, trying to clear out the last whispers and mutterings as Mally climbed up his leg and up until she was on the brim of his hat, where Alice had once sat. "Shoulder please, Mally."

Mally gave an indignant huff and skittered down to Tarrant's shoulder. She should have known better, really. That was Alice's spot.

Tarrant started out of the room and down the stairs toward the kitchen, when a sudden thought came sliding into his brain.

He remembered what he was looking for.


	6. Six: Monochromatic

**A/N: I wanted to do a longer one, and after re-watching the movie for the I-don't-know-how-many-times time, I got to thinking about what Hatter did while sitting at that table for so long, and what he missed most besides his family and Alice. I haven't read the books in a very long time, and even now when I watch the movie I get a little lost trying to pin down the exact time-line of Hatter's life. If you know it better than I (and can back it up), please message me so that I can do this right. **

**Digital cookies to whoever can spot the reference I made to Johnny Depp himself.**

**Reviews put ink in my pen.**

**!*!**

**Six: Monochromatic**

"…_all because I was obliged to kill Time…"_

Underland was where many of the colors had been born so long ago. Indeed, purple and a very particular shade of teal were from Witzend. New colors still sprouted up every now and then, mostly near Marmoreal, coaxed out of the ground and into the flowers by the warmth of the White Queen's reign.

Tarrant was not at Marmoreal, however. He was sitting at the head of the tea table at Hare House, staring down the long, abandoned array of cracked and chipped cups and saucers. He lifted an orange brow, leaning on one of his elbows, and considered the table a moment. Thackery and Mally were off at Marmoreal, and Mirana had requested Hatter fetch one of Thackery's own tea pots before he had a conniption over the designs of the ones she had to offer.

How long had he sat at this blasted table? Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years—

"Hatter!" he whispered harshly at himself, and for once it worked.

He had sat here for years, unmoving and unchanging. He had been… he struggled to remember the short span of time between the deaths of his family and sitting down to tea… had that been how it had gone? He was not quite sure so more, and maybe, he thought, that was for the best. He was fairly sure he had been somewhere near his 30th birthday before he killed Time, but an irritating thought kept pulling at his brain and saying, "No, that was how old Edric was"; referring to a brother Tarrant had long not thought the name of.

He batted the thought away before it had a chance to release the voices in his head. This was not about the loss of life around him… it was about his own life. Had it, in some way, been lost? Had he actually aged during those years, or was he only paused momentarily? Was he still… however old he had been when he sat down to tea? Or had he somehow gained the years that did not pass?

_Circles,_ the Tarrant in his mind muttered. _Thinking in circles will make you mad_.

He breathed in, remembering. Sitting at a tea party for so long had gifted him with plenty of time to think over any possible scenario that could ever happen in Underland, plot out the demise of those who had destroyed his life, ponder the perfect amount of blueberries in a blueberry scone, and remember just the reasons he was sitting there and making an enemy of Time. He and Time had been such good friends once—and he dimly recalled his mother once telling him not to fret over finding a bride, for "Time will do well with your face, I see".

He twitched at the thought of his mother, and the Tarrant in his head shushed the memory. It would not due to lose himself now, not when he was actually trying to have some rational thoughts.

But when he looked down to reform his thoughts, he gasped and snapped out of his chair as quickly as he could. His clothes had been starting to fade into the dingy grays that still inhabited this place and had held him captive during his punishment for Time killing. He brushed his hands over his clothes, trying to wipe away the colors, shouting "I wasn't! I wasn't!"

The colors began to seep back. His jacket turned brown again, his socks regained their stripes, his bowtie perked up, and his blue vest was blue again. He sighed and thanked Time, apologizing for nearly making a relapse, but it is so much harder to keep track of what one is doing when their head doesn't operate properly.

It had been a very hard part of sitting at that table, watching the world around him fading into blacks, grays, and dingy whites. He had always adored Color—the wilder the better. Color was one of the most pleasant things for eyes, he thought, and it had been a great difficulty to not rise out of his seat and beg the colors of the flowers to come back and for the grass to turn green again. He had remained in his wingback chair as Underland's colors retreated and the only comfort he could find was in his colorful dreams, and so he slept a great deal.

Time was a tricky little blighter, and eventually found out what Hatter was doing. Time spoke with his friend Color, and bad things started to happen to Hatter. By the time Alice returned, Hatter's dreams only had blue and brown left in them. It was quite awful.

But Alice had brought all the colors back, ever so quickly and beautifully, as soon as he spotted her across the table and was quite sure it was her. Nobody else would wear Alice Blue, after all. It wouldn't be proper.

Hatter turned his eyes over the scene, looking for a hint of Alice Blue somewhere, but none appeared. Though the rest of Underland was brightening with colors… this place… it was lost and forgotten by Color. Hatter wondered if Hare would mind so much if he burnt the place down, but then he remembered the color of fire and smoke, and the awful things that go with it, and instead grabbed up a teapot and went turned to return to Marmoreal.

…still looking around for Alice Blue.


End file.
